The KKK Are Always Coming to My Town

Gobbled up whitened

shadows and gnawed ’em fierce.

You were laughing about my exit

but here’s the story—

I slammed my foot on the gas 

chucked out that jevo in the passenger seat from before,

heaven-fringed cross swinging on the dash

sped toward something nasty, fast as Sarah Rector.

Thought: look, I got this KC jump and jaunt, and I got it blasting.

Night fingernails spiked to claws, eyeliner shaped like lowering fins 

I kept driving forward, fast-quick as Sarah Rector, I TOLD you, soaring by

neon lights left in the sprawling wake, I don’t care 

about anything anymore, including those dead, frozen shadows.

Load up the cross! Go ahead. if you burn it, 

I’ll wet the wood, save the oak, 

throw the damn cross in the trunk of my huge truck 

and drive it somewhere by the sea, 

or at the very least use it to build the house

I always promised

I’d erect for my mother.